


Dark Between the Stars

by E_Scribble



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VII: The Last Jedi
Genre: Also innocent, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Kylo is scared, Kylo's got it bad for Rey, Obsession, Possessive Behavior, Slow Burn, Soft Side, jealous!kylo, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 01:58:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13354098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_Scribble/pseuds/E_Scribble
Summary: Kylo Ren was only ever scared of one thing. And it was his job to never let her find out.--Formerly titled as Fear.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been yearning for a slow burn fic in Kylo's POV - so here it is. Fair warning, the first two chapters will essentially sum up TFA and TLJ, but in Kylo's perspective and with some add-ins. The third chapter is where things get authentic and emotional, also mature.  
> Enjoy!
> 
> (Suggestions welcome, leave them in the comments below.)

When he heard for the first time that it was a girl, a junkrat from Jakku, that had stolen away with the BB-8, he was unconcerned. It was a bother, yes, but most things were a bother when you were the Commander of the First Order. Snoke had taught that lesson well.

He assumed it was an accident, a scavenger had found the droid and wanted big money for it. Nothing more.

It was when he found out that the girl was with Han Solo that it began. It was small; an unsettling in his chest that he waved away immediately. Merely the pull of the Light, which flared at the thought of his parents, and was getting weaker and weaker each time. So the girl was more than a penniless fortune seeker; that he could live with. She would simply be cut down on sight. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t performed the menial task before.

She was still nothing. Just like his father.

*

He was training when the transmission came in from Takadona, a report that the droid had been seen with the girl in a peculiar little orange creature’s castle. His father had once told him about her, long ago. Maz, he called her. When he spoke of her, the odd lilt of gratefulness colored his tone. Kylo had always been curious as a child why.

Shaking his hair out of his face, he set the shaft he was practicing with down and turned to the clone delivering the message. There was nothing there, not a thing, even behind the emotionless masks they wore. He reached out into the Force, feeling for any trace of emotion. He was left empty-handed. Turning away again, he shrugged off his sweat-slick undershirt and threw it to the side.

“Prepare the fleet. And have no mercy on the girl.”

The solider bowed once and was off, leaving Kylo alone in the training room. He contemplated climbing into his clothes from before without showering, but the thought of meeting the surprising girl from Jakku made him rethink.

Scowling, he made his way quickly to the ‘fresher and allowed the stream of water to coat him for no more than two minutes, scrubbing his hands furiously through his hair. He would meet this girl with a mask on, he told himself, so his outward appearance was no factor. Turning the water off with a quick twist, he grabbed the nearest towel and roughly dried himself, then outfitted for battle.

The trip to Takadona was silent, Hux standing a ways back, his face stony cold, his emotions belaying otherwise. Kylo felt the burn of his gaze on his back, wondered if perhaps maybe looks _could_ kill. He was not pleased Kylo was joining them on their trip, but he felt he had very little choice. His infernal troops hadn’t been able to capture the droid previously.

They landed, and it was immediate destruction. His troops laid waste to the lush trees and the towering castle, and all the life in between. Kylo was standing amidst the ruins of dust and brick when he felt it – a flicker of fear, quick and sharp, a needle prick. But it wasn’t his own. His head turned without a thought, and he caught the dim shape of a body disappearing into the thick copse of trees. A clone shouted over to him, confirming what he already knew. The girl was there.

He felt the soldiers around him tense in anticipation of a chase, and he threw an arm out, a growl no one could see twisting his face.

“The girl is mine,” he commanded, voice low and powerful.

The troops did not move again.

Tracking her was easy.

Not only did she stumble and fall over most branches and leaves, her emotions were thick like tar, tracing a perfect path to the source. He felt her fear, tangible and sour, her resolve, sweet like dew, and her confusion, a fine mist among the leaves. He saw her form, but followed her slowly, knowing she would have to come to a stop at some point.

When she first saw him she fired, and blocking it with the ease of a practiced warrior, he realized she was no fighter at all. It was hard to see her exact form through the blaster, though he could tell that she was no match for him. No match for anyone, really.

His pulse quickened as each step took him closer – finally, _finally_ a chance to look at this would-be hero, the girl who had caused him more trouble than he would have liked to admit. And stowed away with Han Solo, to boot. She wasn’t doing herself any favors, and he had only known her for all of two minutes.

She was stumbling, tripping backwards and he was following, getting closer and closer, still unable to see her full form. Finally, when they reached level ground and the blaster was becoming akin to an annoying fly in his ear, he stopped her.

Throwing the Force her way was easy, as was holding her, and that damned blaster, down. In that moment, he was supremely grateful for the cloying mask, as he had never been very good at hiding his emotions, and the sight of the girl struck awe over his face in waves.

She was so small, so delicate. Like a flower, bending in the wind. Her eyes were wide with fear, a brown that shimmered in the light. He took a deep breath, pulling his gaze away from her eyes and back down to her frame. On the second look he realized that while she was small, there was muscle beneath, corded and struggling against the Force, lithe like a panther. She was absolutely gorgeous.

That was when he felt it again. The stirring in his core, the one he felt when news of her involvement with Han Solo had arrived. Only this time it was stronger. It blossomed in his chest, unwelcome and hot, making his throat tighten.

He quickly covered himself by forcing his body into movement, beginning by circling behind her. Then he spoke.

“The girl I’ve heard so much about. The droid.” He brought the saber to her neck, and her fear spiraled out, overcoming his own, just as he had hoped. For now, he was safe. For now, he had a mission to complete. “Where is it?”

He was met with silence, the quivering beam of light still dangerously close to her neck. He held it for a moment longer, but since he had no intent of actually killing her, he lowered it and resumed his place in front of her.

His chest tightened again as he registered the fear and hate on her face, in her eyes. Though this time it was with something entirely different, something gentle and hollow, something far too close to the Light.

Thrusting his hand out, he entered her mind brutally, and was met with little resistance. The fear was overwhelming, the pain, and the loneliness. It gathered around his mind like cobwebs, and he had to sift through them quickly before he came upon something that cleared his mind entirely.

The map.

The droid had shown her the map. Of course it had.

“You’ve seen it,” he whispered, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice. He was mulling over what this could mean when the clone approached him. Resistance fighters.

His mind snapped quickly back in on itself and he made the decision before he could even think about it.

“Pull the division out. Forget the droid. We have what we need.”

He threw the Force like a heavy blanket at her mind, and she was gone. Falling into his arms like a flower in the wind. He caught her and lifted her up, not surprised by how light she was. If the breeze blew hard enough, he was afraid she might slip away.

With this thought the poisonous flower bloomed again, and with a growl he cast it away.

*

The trip back to Starkiller base was silent, though this time because he spent it with an unconscious girl.

She was laid out on a padded table, her body relaxed, face soft. He wanted to remove the mask but was unsure of when she would wake up, so he kept it on, silently switching between staring at the floor and the girl.

Her face was so soft in slumber, lips parted slightly. Her lips. He glanced quickly back to the floor, trying to absorb his mind in the sewing of his boots. That was how the majority of the ride went, the ugly flower blooming in his chest every now and again, him pushing it down by kicking the toe of his boot against the door and listening to the dim echo.

When they finally docked, he was relieved. The door slid open and two clones stood outside, beside a rolling medical chair. Caught by surprise, Kylo quickly shook it off and motioned for them to haul her onto it. He assumed he would carry her, but of course they would escort her in. It was the menial task of a mere solider to do, not the burden of Kylo Ren. Kylo Ren, who feared nothing. Kylo Ren, a Force user. Shaking his head, as if maybe it would clear his thoughts, he stormed past them, on his way to inform Snoke of their success.

When he arrived at the spacious room, the floor gleaming as if oil had been spilled across the surface, Snoke looked up with a smile.

“So, you have apprehended the droid?”

Kylo came to a stop in front of his master at a kneel. “No, Supreme Leader. I have come with something much more useful.”

Snoke’s face raised in curiosity, and he gestured for Kylo to continue. “The girl, the annoying junkrat from Jakku, she has seen the map. All I have to do is enter her mind and it will be there for the taking.”

“And how, exactly, is this better than the physical map the droid would have provided?”

Kylo swallowed behind the mask, but he knew Snoke felt it. “She comes with knowledge of the Resistance as well. She stowed away with Han Solo, undoubtedly has new information of the Resistance hidden inside her mind. Along with the map. She is priceless.”

Snoke regarded Kylo with thinly veiled disgust before turning and spitting. “Han Solo. Of course you think any information revolving around him is of value. It shows how little you have learned, and how far you must come.”

Kylo’s face heated in anger but he said nothing, staring at the oil slick floor.

“Go,” Snoke finally said, examining his hand. “Go and retrieve the information. Prove to me that this girl is as valuable as you say.”

Kylo bowed deeply once more before turning swiftly on his heels, the cold petals unravelling in his chest at the thought of the girl. Of Rey.

Kylo hoped Snoke thought it was meant for him.

*

When he arrived at the room, the girl was still unconscious, though now in tilted up and strapped down, head tilted sideways. Kylo sat before her, forcing himself to look only at her face, to calm his stuttering heart despite the sight of her. He would not give her that power. Just as he thought that, she jerked up with a gasp, eyes wide and frightened, flicking over her surroundings without comprehension. When they lighted on Kylo, they stopped. He remained sitting for a moment, watching her through his mask. Her face slid from confusion to fear, finally coming to rest at a steely resolve.

“Where am I?”

“You’re my guest,” Kylo responded, hiding a smile under his mask.

She was not amused. “Where are the others?”

“You mean the murderers, thieves and traitors you call friends? You’ll be relieved to know I’ve no idea.” He watched the tension in her shoulders lessen for a moment, allowed himself to swim in the sweetness of her relief before she broke the silence again. Only, not with her voice. There was anger there, hatred.

“You still want to kill me?” he asked, unsure of the answer himself. He couldn’t figure out where it was aimed. Most likely him but… maybe not.

“That happens when you’re being hunted by a creature in a mask,” she spit out, glaring acid. If he thought looks could kill before, Hux was sorely outmatched by this spitfire.

Kylo felt his pulse quicken again and swallowed, then bit his lip roughly and brought his hands up to his mask, removing it with a sucking hiss. He allowed himself only a moment of regret before the mask was completely off as he bared his face, his eyes. His feelings.

He registered her shock first, her eyes wide with something he didn’t understand, and then following that, attraction. Not deep, not intense, but there, flitting around the edge of her foremost thoughts like a lost butterfly. All the air in Kylo’s lungs froze and he had to blink once to center himself again in reality.

There it was again.

He slammed his helmet down on the pebbled surface beside him, coming to a stop directly in front of her. The fear was back, she was scared again, and all thoughts of attraction quickly fled her mind.

Good.

“Tell me about the droid.” He spoke lowly, never breaking eye contact. To break eye contact would be to show weakness, and this girl did not make him weak. He would not let her make him weak.

She looked away first, beginning to spout off useless information that he already knew. He felt himself catch a smile and turned away, frustration pooling in his chest. “It’s carrying a section of the navigational chart,” he interrupted, and she glared at him. He forced another smile away.

Spitfire.

He informed her that they had the rest, what she had was all they needed, and she froze. He mocked her, lowered her, anything to push her walls down as low as they could go so when he finally entered her mind it would be with ease. The thought of going back there, to the place where she kept her most intimate and cherished emotions, sent a sharp tingle down his back, almost an electrical shock. He looked away briefly before turning back to her, jaw clenched.

“You know I can take whatever I want,” he said, hoping to invoke more fear in her, using her torrent of emotion to drown out his own.

Who said fighting fire with fire didn’t work?

He entered quickly, when her fear was coming out in waves. He brought himself closer, hoping to stir her even more.

It had the opposite effect.

To distract himself, he narrated the course of her mind, the emotions clawing out at him with intensity that made his chest ache. He sorted through each empty emotion she had, trying desperately to bring her down, wrench her from the Light that surrounded her, that was blinding him. Then he came upon an image. His father’s face, her comfort with him. Her trust. He couldn’t help himself. His face hardened.

“And Han Solo. You feel like he’s the father you never had,” he turned away, then back, “he would have disappointed you.”

Suddenly there was a push, from somewhere deep in her mind, and she spoke, strength in each word. “Get _out_ of my head,”

He pulled back quickly, alarmed, then stepped before her again, crowding her, making sure she knew _he_ was the one in charge. _He_ was to be feared.

He reached in, searching for the map he knew was there. Reaching, stretching…

She was back. Her walls were up.

“It’s in there, and you’ll give it to me.” He murmured, quiet and sure.

“I’m not giving you _anything_ ,” she returned, clenching her jaw.

His face tightened. “We’ll see.”

He reentered her mind, this time with his whole being, pushing past her to go deeper. Only, she was there, too. She was everywhere. A frown graced his brow before he tried again. She greeted him, not allowing him past, pushing just as hard as he was pulling. He put more of himself into the Force, more power, more energy, more soul, more more _more_ until he realized his mistake. Too much. He had put too much of himself into it, and she could feel _him_ now, read him.

The flower was back, bigger and more potent than before. Blooming and spreading with her gaze on him.

She felt it. He knew she did. He saw it in her eyes.

“You’re afraid,” she whispered, and it was a lash against his ears. She _knew_. His face broke. His eyes, they shone with it. With his fear. He hated her for it, but couldn’t seem to pull back.

“That you will never be as strong as _Darth Vader_ ,” her voice was surety, eyes triumph.

Kylo snapped back, reeling into himself and throwing the barriers up as quickly as possible, blood racing through his veins.

She missed it.

Somehow, she missed the mark.

He wanted to laugh, or possibly cry, in relief. He was safe. His secret, safe.

He stared at her a moment longer, trying to read her face, to understand where she had gone wrong.

Trying to understand how she had missed what was so blatantly obvious, though he tried to deny it.

He wasn’t scared of not equaling his grandfather.

He was scared of her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summing up the end of TFA and all of TLJ, but much quicker and with more of my own scenes because I am excited to actually write my stuff. (Though it was important to know Kylo's thoughts throughout all of this, plus SLOW BURN.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so a couple things:  
> 1\. Towards the beginning of this chapter is where I included Kylo killing Han, mostly for therapeutic reasons. If you're not interested in Kylo's thoughts during that scene, feel free to skim past it. 
> 
> 2\. I summarized much of TLJ because its still in theaters and I can't quote line by line, which I'm sure is more enjoyable for you anyway, so bare with me if you've just seen TLJ and I misquote lines.
> 
> 3\. If you've made it this far, I thank you for reading, and also encourage you to stick around for the next chapter and those that follow, because I promise you they will be much more interesting than my first two. (ie, intense feelings, angst, soft Kylo, rousing dreams and so on.) 
> 
> Enjoy!

He left the cell in a rush, pushing past the soldiers patrolling. Nothing felt right. The balance had shifted, the Force had reformed, and Kylo was left dizzy and confused. He could still feel her, lingering somewhere under the surface of his conscious. Not her thoughts or emotions, but… her.

He needed to meditate. Clear his mind of… everything. The girl. Snoke. His parents. His mind was too cluttered, his emotions too chaotic for him to think straight. Not that he usually had them under _that_ much control, but. He could try.

His image reflected back at him through the distorted metal doors of his chamber, and he looked down before he could see too much. He would rather not look into his own haunted eyes at the moment.

They slid open silently, and he entered in the same manner. The space was just that; a space. It held the bed he slept on, a padded metal table that jutted from the wall covered by a thick black comforter, equip with a single black pillow. The floor was metal, covered by an absorbent spongy material. Catty corner from the door was a bathroom, holding only the essentials: a sink, a ‘fresher, and a toilet. A deep indent in the wall with a single pole run horizontally through the top functioned as his sparse closet.

As soon as the doors closed behind him, he slipped his boots off immediately and sighed to himself, allowing the smallest bit of relief to soothe his tight muscles. But he couldn’t relax, not all the way. He had to be sure to always be partially alert. Being Commander of the First Order came with danger. Attempts made on his life happened daily, usually by his own army. He presumed Hux wished he could at least try, but he knew he never would. Too much of a coward. In that sense, at least, he knew he was safe.

His gloves and cape soon followed his boots to their respectful place on the floor. Sitting down gently on his bed, he carefully eased his whole body to the center, crossing his legs under him. This was no easy task, considering the length of his legs, but by this point he had mastered it. Meditation was his key to survival.

He made sure he was facing the door with his saber at his side before he closed his eyes. At first there was nothing, just inky, beautiful blackness. It never took long for his emotions to lash out of their careful cages he put them in every day, though. It started as it usually did; first with guilt, terrible and hollow, followed by hurt. Then it transitioned into longing, and a pang of missing so sharp it always took his breath away and he had to linger on the emotion, toying with it gently, allowing it to settle comfortably into his bones so it wasn’t as sharp. After that, the blackness usually reappeared, mixed with each emotion. A disgusting, painful stew that he sorted through each day. But this time something else happened.

Fear bubbled up, coming from seemingly nowhere. It swirled around him, his heart stuttering under its onslaught, and his passive face creased, lips parting.

Her face. Shining brown eyes, full of power and surety, glittering with passion and light. It curled out from the blackness he welcomed like a sick fog, slow and completely out of his control. Her lips, the shape of her words, the vastness of her heart. His chest constricted harshly and he gasped aloud.

Rey’s face solidified behind his eyes, and with it, fear. Then the image began to shimmer like the surface of water, transform. He no longer was looking at just her face, but the interrogation room he had just left. She was staring stonily at the wall, her mouth moving as if she were talking. The patrolling trooper outside her door stopped, walked in and stood in front of her. She glared at him, then spoke once more. The Force shuddered around Kylo’s body.

Suddenly her restraints were freed, and the Stormtrooper was leaving without looking back, pausing only to drop his gun at the door. Rey stood, smiling, flexing her wrists. She was leaving. She had escaped. She was _leaving_.

Fear punched him in the gut, strong enough to rob him of air. The vision shimmered again, harder, cracking like glass instead of water this time, until it broke and he fell forward with a cry.

Rey was gone.

It was a fact; he had just seen it, and he could _feel_ it now, for some reason. Besides, the interrogation room was so far away from his chambers by the time he made it there she would be long gone.

None of those things stopped his feet from picking up speed until he was running, sprinting to see it in person. He had to try. His fear wouldn’t let him do anything else. He was mindless before he ran into a Stormtrooper and knocked them over. They turned and watched him as he ran, and he scowled and slowed his pace, feeling foolish.

He didn’t need to sprint. She was already gone. He didn’t need to sprint. She wasn’t worth it.

Even as he repeated those words in his head, it didn’t stop his feet from aching to move quicker. When he finally rounded the corner and made his way into the room he knew would be empty, his fear left.

In its place was anger, thick and hot, suffocating him more than any mask could. The scream that clawed its way out of his throat was through no control of his. His lightsaber was suddenly active, hissing and spitting in his hand.

He blindly laid waste to the room, feeling the satisfaction of using his muscles to the point, leeching the anger out of his body with each lash. It was the only way. He would rather take it out on this useless room than hunt down the Stormtrooper who released her. Which he was very tempted to do.

He was breathing hard by the time his anger had been satiated, and deactivated his saber. She was still on Starkiller, that much he was sure of. She couldn’t have possibly stolen a transport and escaped without sounding the alarms. The thought calmed him slightly. She wasn’t lost. Just gone. She was still within reach.

His fear subsided at the thought, and he took a deep breath. He would find her.

*

He was prowling along the ship, doing his very best to ignore the torrent of emotions clouding his brain when each hair on his arm prickled. Something was off. He paused for a moment, confused, when Snoke’s voice rippled in his mind.

_Come. Now._

Swallowing thickly, Kylo resumed walking, mind racing at Snoke’s beckon. Had he figured out Rey’s disappearance? Of course he had, it would be foolish to think otherwise. The only question was if he was summoning Kylo to punish or aid him. The sinking feeling in his gut led him to believe the former.

He was halfway across the bridge when he heard it.

“Ben!”

The blood in his veins turned to ice. Not for the first time that day, all the wind was sucked from his chest.

Han Solo. His father. He ached to turn around, but found that his muscles were frozen. Snoke was suddenly in his mind again, more sinister than before.

More powerful.

_Turn._

His muscles moved fluidly now, and he saw his father for the first time in years. He bit his lip, hard.

_You know what you have to do. To prove…_

The words came without thought. “Han Solo. I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.”

His father began walking towards him, slowly, cautiously. Of course. He was scared, just as Kylo suspected. He felt something stir in the Force, something small, but he brushed it away, consumed as he was by his father’s presence. It filled him with a warmth he hadn’t known in years. It made him nauseous.

“Take off that mask. You don’t need it,”

“What do you think you’ll see if I do?” Challenge. He was challenging his father, not meeting.

“The face of my son,” came the anguished reply.

Pain splintered across his heart at the sound, and he wasn’t sure if it was his or his father’s.

He reached up, and, like before, allowed himself little time to think before the mask was gone.

He realized at once the mistake he had made. The pain was written all over his face, he could feel it. Han could see it.

_Remind him who you are_. Snoke.

“Your son is gone.” He spit. “He was weak and foolish, like his father. So I destroyed him.”

Closer. He was walking closer. The pain intensified.

His father was speaking now, words Kylo didn’t fully comprehend. Then suddenly he was responding, though he wasn’t sure how. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t feel. Was this Snoke or himself? He didn’t know.

He caught snippets of words; mother and miss, and he couldn’t stand it. Tears rose to his eyes as the pain overtook him, and he confessed.

“I’m being torn apart. I want to be free of this pain,” He wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a plea.

Then Snoke was there, in his mind, crowding him, allowing him no room to think, to comprehend. His father’s willingness surrounded him, his joy, and then it was all black.

The next thing he registered was a pain he had never known, tearing through him. If he was being torn apart before, now he was ruined. Shredded. There were screams. The wookie’s. A girl’s. He couldn’t hear much around the pounding.

A hand against his face. His father’s. Light flashed before his eyes and fell away into emptiness. There was nothing. He was nothing. It was all gone.

Everything.

*

When he next saw Rey, he was angry. His mind was in a turmoil he had never known, and she was standing with the traitor. Her first words to him didn’t help either.

“You’re a _monster_ ,” she spit, quivering with anger.

His lightsaber lit the snow beneath him in a wicked red glow, suiting for the scene.

“It’s just us now. Han Solo can’t save you.” Pain. Inner pain, his heart constricting around itself.

He punched his side until his wound spit blood onto the ground, hoping to center his mind on the moment.

It was hard. Everything was moving too fast. He threw Rey against a tree and then the boy was wielding a saber. None of it was right. Rey was far more powerful than he. It should be _her_ holding the weapon, not him.

He fought the boy anyway, the rage of battle soothing his nerves. This was normal. This was right. This was the only thing that had happened today that made any sense at all.

Then he was arcing his weapon up through the air, disarming the boy and wounding him. He was on the ground, and Kylo had a moment to breathe before he turned, reaching out for the lightsaber. It vibrated in the snow, and then lifted.

It flew past him. Into Rey’s outstretched hand.

He watched in surprise, beating down the pride that suddenly flared, inexplicably, within him. Only Rey would overcome his Force.

No matter. His concentration at the moment was weak, anyway.

This was the fight that meant something.

As he battled her, chest to chest, he realized that he had been wrong. When he first met her, he had been entirely wrong. She wasn’t weaker than him, someone to be scoffed at. She was powerful, more powerful than any other opponent he had ever known.

And he admired her for that. Despite himself, he admired her.

“I can show you the ways of the Force,” he ground out, their sabers pushing against one another, pulsing with power and danger. She threw him a surprised look that he had only moments to register before she was out from under him, and they were battling again.

There was a pain in his leg and he was on his knees with a cry, struggling to his feet only to be struck down once more. This time the pain was on his face, and he writhed on the ground.

Too much. It was too much. Pain was everywhere. Inside and outside, it was eating him alive. He felt her Light, and he yearned towards it, the calming surety of it. With that thought the ground shook, and the world tore itself apart.

The last thing he knew was pain. Then his beautiful inky blackness swallowed him whole.

*

The retributions for the loss of not only Rey but the map were monumental. Snoke’s wrath was unparalleled, and Kylo took almost every stroke of it. For the first week or so, he swam in a world of mild consciousness, finding it easier to let things float by him without thought.

It was within the second week or so that he finally came to, bursting back into reality like a wave breaking through the surface of the water. Snoke’s anger had cooled, and they had targeted the rebel base. If they could destroy that, then they would have the upper hand. Things were looking up.

He was alone when it happened first, a sudden quiet about his surroundings he had never noticed before. The medical droid seeing to his facial wound whirred away next to his ear, and he brushed it away with impatience.

Rey.

She was here. Her presence surrounded him like a thick fog, and suddenly he could see her. Her face, her body. But not her surroundings. Guessing by her startled gasp, she could see him, too.

She was filled with fear. But he, he was filled with only wonderment. She was there. Before him. He had presumed she would be gone for a long while, hardening her hatred for him as she toiled away with Skywalker. He opened his mouth to say something when she reached for her blaster and shot it directly at him.

The shock of it rocked through his being, followed by the sharp heat he anticipated he would have felt had she actually been there, shooting at him.

She was running, he could see that, but he couldn’t figure where. He asked her if she could see his surroundings, seeing as hers weren’t visible to him. She threw angry words his way that he threw to the side easily, when a voice that sent chills down his spine entered.

Luke Skywalker.

“Is that Skywalker?” He asked, taking an instinctive step forward. She turned to Luke in desperation, and in that desperation, severed the connection they shared. Pressing his lips together, Kylo paused only a moment more before he made his way through the rest of his day. The fear he felt in her absence had abated. For now, she was still with him.

*

Time passed more quickly after that. The Force connected them at the worst times. It seemed to switch between when Kylo was most vulnerable and when Rey was most vulnerable. Neither of them could control it, but he soon realized that Rey had begun to appreciate their connection. The thought made his chest swell.

He was standing in his chambers, preparing to meditate, when he felt it. The echoing silence and her startled breath. He turned around and she looked down immediately, a soft blush coloring her cheeks.

“Could you find something to put on? A robe or a cape, even?”

He ignored her, tilting his head at the red coloring her cheeks. He felt it again, what he had sensed what seemed like forever ago in the interrogation room. Attraction. Only, this time, it was much more solid. It didn’t dance around the outskirts of her thoughts as it had before. This was central. It was now. And it was directed at him.

He didn’t bring it to light, afraid she would slam the connection shut immediately. Instead he peppered her with questions about Skywalker, ones he was curious to know.

He took a step closer, preparing to tell her the truth, but instead the image came unbidden from his memories, and they were both submerged in the moment.

Luke, standing over him with his saber drawn, reflecting dangerously in his eyes.

That was all he was able to show before the connection was severed again, and he was left to his own devices. Left wondering why he even cared that she know the truth.

*

The next time the Force connected them, she was scared. She was trembling and sad, fresh with the pain of what the Darkness of the island had told her.

Watching her in pain twisted something inside that he didn’t like. He wanted to comfort her. To let her know he felt it, too.

He spoke the words, only trying to comfort her, to ease her suffering. Her eyes met his, warm and sparkling in the firelight.

She was beautiful. The most beautiful thing he had ever seen. So pure and bright, full of everything he knew would melt his heart to nothing.

“It’s not too late,” she whispered. “I can help you,”

Her hand was there suddenly, reaching out to him, and her surroundings were made clear.

He was tempted, so tempted, to follow her. To let her lead him to greener pastures. Her eyes promised a world where he would never feel the anguish that was as constant as breathing he felt now. A life that could be _happy_.

He was trembling all over, shaking with the want, the desire. He was weak, but that was okay. Together they were strong.

He extended his hand, unable to look away from her eyes, wide and hopeful. Slowly, ever so slowly, he brought their fingers closer together.

And then – they touched. It was gentle, oh so gentle. And full of hope, of promise. It was sweeter than anything he’d felt in a long while, and he _swam_ in it.

“Stop!”

They ripped apart quickly, Luke standing terrified on the stairs above. The sight of Skywalker jolted Kylo enough to stand and throw his walls up, cutting the connection like a string.

Foolish. He was a fool, and now Rey knew. He curled his hand into a tight fist and walked away, ignoring the wild beating of his heart.

*

She was there. He could feel it. She was there, in the flesh, and he could not tamp down the electric shock that went through him at the thought. He was there within seconds, watching as her one person transport opened. She was clutching her lightsaber as if it were her lifeline, and he supposed it was. Her eyes meet his and the connection between them flared, hot and fast, and he had to look away before it overtook him.

The guards behind him opened the shackles, and he walked away.

She followed him, of course, escorted by soldiers, until they reach the elevator. There, he waved them off, and they step into the confined space together. She stood in front of him, back tense and rigid.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said finally, turning to look at him, those god forsaken eyes shining in the light. “I saw your future, on the island. Clear and solid. You will turn. I can help you.”

Her eyes are pulling him in, and he has to escape them before they reach Snoke. The Supreme Leader had been leaving his thoughts alone as of late, and he’d like to keep it that way.

“I’ve seen yours too.” He threw out the lie casually, looking down at her. “And that is how I know it is you that will turn.” Her gaze was unstable, eyes wavering. She was just as unsure as he.

When they reached Snoke’s throne room, Kylo fell quiet. Snoke’s approval is immediate and swift, washing over Kylo in heavy waves. More than that, though, was Rey’s sudden fear. It was intense and bitter, mixed with an unwavering resolve unlike what he saw in the elevator moments ago.

Snoke was spewing words, meaningless things that Kylo didn’t bother listening to. He knows they are scornful and cruel, meant to lower not only himself but also Rey. He doesn’t have the heart to listen.

Only when Snoke pulled her forward does his attention spike, watching each move with the concentration of a hawk, the saber heavy in his hand.

“You will bring me Skywalker, and after I’ve finished him, I will kill you…”

Kylo watched  Snoke’s face with an intensity he didn’t know he had. He must have felt it, the resistance she had built inside her. Kylo knew, for he had touched it before, been turned backwards by it before. Snoke scowled in distaste and threw her back, then forward again, showing her the dying fleet of the Resistance. His tricks. Kylo fought his disgust.

Rey turned to him, and her fury hit Kylo like a brick before she charged Snoke, lightsaber in hand, intent to kill clear on her face. Snoke pushed her away with a laugh, bringing the inactive saber to his side once more. Rey was in front of Kylo then, her nearness making him dizzy, the onslaught of her emotions at this range too much to handle. She was looking at him, and he was looking back, barely aware of Snoke’s voice, his words, only feeling his own resolve, hardening under the power of her gaze. He killed Snoke with a choked gasp, feeling a veil he didn’t know was there lift as the Supreme Leader’s body slid to the floor. Rey gave a startled breath of relief, and then they are fighting. It is the most natural thing Kylo has ever felt, working alongside her in such tandem.

They were powerful, a force no one could tame, and they could rule the whole galaxy if they wanted to. It was addictive, that thought. Rey by his side, giving him the strength no one else ever could.

It’s with that thought on his mind that he asked her. He invited her to rule with him, to let it all die. They can grow anew. She can help him. She can help leak away the pain that’s been gnawing at his heart for far too long. She can cast away the fear she brought on. She can fix it all.

But she doesn’t. She’s too good, too pure. She denied him, and the lightsaber flies toward her hands. He can’t allow this to happen, not again. He can’t lose her. He flung his own arm out, struggling, gritting his teeth together and _pulling_ but it wasn’t enough; neither of them could win this. So the saber lost.

It was torn apart at the same moment the ship is, and Kylo was thrown off his feet, hitting the floor hard. His conscious left him soon after, and as he’s swirling down toward the dark, he could only feel the fear building in his chest. Rey was leaving again. Leaving him.

And then he was gone, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave me comments on how to make this or the previous chapter better, seeing as these two are summary chapters, or if you're feeling frisky, thoughts on the next ones to come. 
> 
> xx


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